


In Another Life

by thehiddenhero



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Homelessness, M/M, Modern AU, Rated M for later content, Sex, Smut, The major character death is canon, Triggers, bilbo baggins is a sweetie, but also adult references, sex for drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehiddenhero/pseuds/thehiddenhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which everyone begins to remember their past lives, and some deal with it a lot better than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic deals with drug addiction, homelessness, self hatred, and possibly other topics in later chapters that can be very triggering for some people. Please keep that in mind while reading, and stay safe. I love you guys.

He sat on the cold concrete floor of the bus shelter, back pressed up against the glass to escape the harsh winter wind blowing outside. There was little else to protect him from the unforgiving cold, save for his light windbreaker and the half a bottle of rum that sat warm in his stomach. It seemed the only way to fight off a chill. Bringing a hand up to his face, he blocked out the wind to light a cigarette, one of the last he has left on him- He’ll have to find more somewhere soon. Last time he went without nicotine for too long, he had a meltdown in a local shopping mall and the damned security called in the cops. He doesn’t want to spend time in jail anytime soon. He’s been doing a pretty good job staying out of there.

He can see the faint shadows of people bustling by, all packed up in their winter jackets and scarves, trying to get home to their families and warm beds. Bed- shit, he can’t remember the last time he slept on a bed. He supposed that he could count the times that he’s stayed at Bolg’s house, but there hadn’t been much sleeping involved. His stomach turned at the mere thought of that guy’s name, threatening to rid him of the alcohol in his body. No, he wanted to keep that there, and keep thoughts of that disgusting creature far out of his mind.

Putting his hood up and tucking long blond hair inside his jacket, he leaned his head down and closed his eyes, focusing on nothing besides the cigarette in his mouth. No one would be disturbing him tonight- not in a storm like this. Some nights, people liked to sneer and mess with him, but depending on how his day went, he let them. Sometimes, there was trouble. Sometimes old drunks wanted to pick fights at 2 am. Sometimes the cops busted him for trespassing or for possession. He doesn’t want to get caught for that shit again- The judge said he wouldn’t be easy on him next time. No, tonight he would be left alone, left in the cold bus shelter in the only sense of peace he can remember in his short twenty years of life.  
_____________________________________

“Are you sure you’re alright to go out there?”

Bilbo Baggins nodded his head, pulling his knitted scarf a little closer to his face as he looked out the window of the tea shop. “I’ll be fine, Rosie,” He promised, looking over at her with a warm smile. “My car isn’t parked too far off- I’ll just run like the wild.”

Rosie chuckled from across the way, wiping down the counter and leaning against it. “I still can’t believe that we didn’t close today,” She frowned, crossing her arms. “That Thorin Oakenshield is something else. He only keeps us open because he’s not the one who has to weather through the storm to get to and from work on days like this. All greedy in his high and mighty mansion is what he is.”  
Bilbo laughed, turning to look at her and shake his head. “Ignorance is bliss, I suppose,” He sighed, tugging his hat over thick brown curls. “Right- You’re alright to get home then?”

“Oh yeah, Sam is picking me up after his shift- Only another hour. I’ll be alright, Baggins. Don’t worry over me.”

“Alright, have a good night, Rosie. Safe travels!” 

His breath was knocked out of him momentarily as he opened the glass doors of the shop, cold northern wind hitting him in the face and shocking him with the intensity. He couldn’t remember the last time the weather had been quite so dreadful, and he considered himself to be useful with an almanac.

Keeping one foot in front of the other proved to be difficult with the constant gusts of wind and snow, and Bilbo found himself exhausting quickly. His short legs were not built for this weather, and he found himself dreaming of his books and his warm armchair by the fire as he trudged through the snow. The biting wind proved to be too much, at least for the moment, and Bilbo thanked his lucky stars as he saw a bus shelter come into view. He would step inside just for a few moments, he decided, just to catch his breath and then carry on his way.

He immediately ran to a far corner of the shelter, trying his hardest to escape the icy blasts that made the snow swirl all around the glass enclosure. His breathing was heavy, and he grumbled as he swatted at snow droplets that were falling down his face from his snow-covered eyelashes and brows. So consumed was the short man in his attempt to rid himself of the freezing cold, that he did not immediately notice the young man curled into a ball in the corner to the other side of him- until he heard a cough.

“Goodness me, are you alright?!” Bilbo’s eyes widened, and he turned to look at the young man, who didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him, for he stayed silent, pulling his light windbreaker a bit closer to him and staring into the ground.

“Excuse me?” Bilbo said again, his voice a little louder, though he made sure to sound kind and not condescending. From the looks of him, this kid had been here for quite a while, and Bilbo didn’t want to scare him off.

“What the fuck do you want?”

The voice was quiet, and undoubtedly a lot smaller than he had wished it to be. Of course, the kid barely had any energy left, his body trying to use the small amount that it had left just to stay warm, stay alive.  
“Well….uh…” Bilbo stood there flustered, colour flooding to his cheeks despite the wretched cold. “Do you..you.. you look like you could use some help.”

At that, the boy laughed, though it was sad and humorless. He looked over at Bilbo, blue eyes staring up at him, skeptical but Bilbo did not miss the glimpse of hope. “Yeah- I guess you could say that,” He agreed, coughing into his hand. It was a smoker’s cough, harsh and painful, and the shorter man did not miss the little wince the boy gave as he collected himself before speaking. “Don’t think its anything you can help me with though, bud. Hey- do you have a smoke?”

“N-no, I’m afraid I don’t smoke,” Bilbo frowned, growing more worried by the minute as he assessed the situation and the young man’s weak condition. “But, uh… I know someone who does…though they may be cigars, not cigarettes. I’m afraid I cant really tell you much of a difference because I don’t know about these sort of things. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?”

“If I did, do you think I would be here?” The boy laughed humorlessly yet again, leaning forward to stretch, the action making the bottles in his backpack clink together.

“No, I suppose not. Listen, it’s really bad out, and Im on my way to my house. I have a spare bedroom- My nephew lived with me until he went off to college. Why don’t you stay there, just for tonight at least? I don’t think I’d be able to sleep tonight with you sleeping out here on my conscience.”

The boy frowned, his brows furrowing as he stood. Bilbo noticed the strands of blond hair sticking out of his hood, and he couldn’t help but admire it. Seeing him now, Bilbo reckoned the boy was around the same age as Frodo, and it saddened him even more to know that this boy could be college bound, but instead he was here in this bus shelter.

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you,” The blond murmured, adjusting the backpack on his back. “Why the fuck would you do that for me, huh? What do you really want- You don’t want any nasty shit, right? ‘Cause I don’t do that anymore, okay? And if someone told you I did, they’re fucking lying.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Bilbo’s eyes widened, the colour on his cheeks only increasing the more flustered he became. Good gracious, what did he think he was implying?!

“No-No, good heavens, I don’t want anything!” He said quickly, shaking his head in hopes that it would help prove his cause. “I just don’t like seeing a kid out here in the cold, or anyone for that matter. I have a nephew that looks to be about the same age as you, and I’d never want to see him or any of his friends in a situation like this. Please, just for the night, and then in the morning when the storm clears, I’ll help you to be on your way.”

The boy stared at him hard for a long moment, chewing on his bottom lip as if he were deep in thought, as if Bilbo’s words had gotten to something within his mind. He pulled a bottle out of his backpack, only a few mouthfuls of rum left in the glass, and downed it all in a single go, relishing the familiar feeling of the alcohol burning down his throat. He nodded, leaving the empty bottle in the corner of the shelter. “Alright.”

“Great,” Bilbo perked up, tugging on his scarf a little more as he gestured for the boy to follow him out into the storm. “My car is this way. I’m Bilbo, by the way.”

The boy nodded, awkwardly shaking Bilbo’s extended hand.

“Legolas.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Galion, go and see if she’s here yet.”

Thranduil Oropherion stood tall with his back turned to the assistant, who nodded his head quickly and scurried out of the office. Thranduil’s tailor-made suit fit just right, but he adjusted his tie in a nervous habit as he looked out over the city that he had helped create. He could barely make out the skyline through the whirls of snow, and he found himself suddenly extremely thankful for the large marble fireplace adjacent to him. He couldn’t remember the last time a storm had been so bad- but that was what he was trying to do now…remember.

It seemed as though the storm had not kept the woman he was to meet at home, for not five minutes after he had sent Galion to look for her, was there a quiet rapping on the door.  
“Come in, please.”

A tall woman with delicate features walked into the room, closing the door behind her to give the two of them some privacy. She wore a long white dress and a silver winter coat which she took off and hung on a nearby hook. Her long, wavy blonde hair was braided down her back, and she wore an unmistakable smirk upon her face.

“I am surprised that you were able to make it,” Thranduil said calmly, greeting her in return with a small smile and offering her a chair. She accepted with a nod, sitting and crossing her legs with an almost ethereal grace.

“I heard that you are remembering,” She said smoothly, her voice soft and calming as a lullaby. “I would not miss such a thing for the world.”

“Bits and pieces,” Thranduil said slowly, moving over to a small cabinet and holding up an empty wine glass to offer her some. She shook her head to decline, and so he poured a single glass for himself before sitting down. “At first I thought that I was…”

“Going mad,” The woman chuckled, nodding her head as if she had known all along. Thranduil nodded, smiling softly as he sipped at his wine. “I know what you mean. I thought that I was having an insane episode before I heard that my husband was experiencing the same thing.”

“Bard has been as well,” Thranduil said quietly, looking over at the woman and tilting his head. “Tell me everything you know. Please, Galadriel.”  
__________________

“Thanks again for letting me stay.” Legolas sat on the edge of Frodo Baggins’ bed, brushing his long, wet hair. The hot shower had gotten rid of the wretched cold feeling in his bones, making him feel a little more human. He wore Frodo’s clothes which were a bit too small for him, for Legolas seemed to be much taller than Bilbo’s nephew, but the clothes were just to sleep in, and they were far more comfortable than anything the blond owned.

“Of course,” Bilbo nodded, walking in with a plate of hot soup and crackers. “I thought I’d bring this in to you- Do you like vegetable soup?”

Legolas shrugged, taking the bowl from the man and bringing it to his nose. “M’not sure,” He mumbled, feeling the warmth from the soup and letting it warm his body up even more. “Never had it before.”

Bilbo nodded once again, puttering around the room. He knew that it really wasn’t his business, and it never was his style to stick his nose into somewhere where it had no business being, but there were so many questions he had about this young man, and how his life had come to be as it was.

“Pardon me for asking, but how old are you, Legolas?” He asked softly, biting his lip in worry that he may have pried too much.

“Twenty,” Legolas said simply, dipping a cracker into the soup and munching on it. “This really is good, Bilbo. I like it a lot. Way better than what they give out at the shelter- Practically water.”

Legolas’ response made Bilbo frown, and prompted him to ask his other question as he sat in an armchair that Frodo often used for late night reading in his room.

“Where are your parents?”

The boy seemed to not hear Bilbo for a moment, concentrating on eating his soup, which he really did seem to enjoy, before looking over at him.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, did they leave you?”

Legolas shrugged again, chewing on the edge of a cracker deep in thought.

“I never met them,” he said quietly, his brow furrowing as he spoke. Bilbo could see that the boy seemed lost in thought, and he reached over to tentatively place a hand on his shoulder to ease him.

“I think I met my mom once,” He continued, that distance look still on his face. “I was like six though, so I cant really remember if it was her or not. She was really sick though, always in and out of the hospital. My mom’s friend took care of me for a while. Her name was Celebrian- Real nice lady til she was killed in a break and enter. Blood all over the place, I don’t think Ill ever forget that.”

“…Jesus,” Bilbo breathed, getting up to calm his nerves and decided on opening the linen closet to find Legolas some more blanets. “That’s terrible, I’m sorry.”

Legolas shrugged, continuing to eat his soup as he spoke. “After that, her husband Elrond tried to take care of us all. He got really depressed though, poor fucker. He had three kids of his own, plus my sorry ass. I ended up being a bit of a shit disturber, and eventually I just stopped coming home altogether. One day I decided to try to go back, but I saw them together, the kids and him, and I decided I didn’t want to fuck up his family again. So I left.”

“What about your father?”

“Don’t have one.”


End file.
